Humbug
by Boogum
Summary: In which tinsel is loathed, Vegeta is accused of being a Grinch, and the benefits of mistletoe are discovered.


This was written for the Bulma/Vegeta Christmas challenge at _**The Prince and the Genius Forum**_(link can be found on my profile). The prompt was 'Vegeta's first Christmas'. I decided to have a bit of fun with my response. Hope you like it, and I hope you all have a Merry Christmas. ^_^

* * *

><p><strong>Humbug<strong>

There was something very wrong with this situation.

Vegeta had always questioned the sanity of the Earthlings with whom he stayed, but that did not explain why Capsule Corporation was suddenly transformed into some garishly decorated, ornament-infested hell. Those damned sparkly things were everywhere—tinsel, he thought it was called—and what was with that fat man in the red suit he kept seeing? Was it some kind of god? He knew the Earthlings were pathetically weak, but did they really worship some fat little man surrounded by boxes and bows, and whose greatest saying seemed to be 'ho ho ho'?

And _why _in all the galaxy's name did they have to play such awful music? He'd never heard such torture in his life, and that was saying something. After all, he had been forced to listen to the Ginyu Force's special musical numbers on occasion—an act that was even more painful to watch than their choreographed fighting stances.

No, Vegeta could not understand what had got into the Briefs, but he certainly knew when he'd had enough. This was not the time for such bizarre upstarts—the Androids were coming in less than three years and he needed to train for the upcoming battle, not be bombarded with an abundance of glitter and lights and fat jolly men. Unfortunately for him, the rest of the household were quite immune to his complaints.

Doctor Briefs listened courteously enough, but he told Vegeta that stopping Christmas in the Briefs household was like trying to stop the Earth from moving.

"Of course, you can try if you want," Doctor Briefs continued, "but I think you'll find that this is one battle you can't win. My wife and daughter can be quite determined when they want; it's best just to let them have their way."

Then he'd held up a red and white coloured stick and smiled from under his bushy moustache. "Candy cane?"

Needless to say, Vegeta had not been impressed. Nor did he waste any more time with the old man. It was clear to Vegeta that, though the scientist was by rights the patriarch and master of the household, he was not the person in charge. Like a hive of insects, one had to go for the queen if one truly wanted to get rid of the pests.

So Vegeta had gone to try to persuade Mrs Briefs to return the house to normal—that horrid music they kept playing was really beginning to get on his nerves; he'd even found himself humming 'Jingle Bells' at one point, much to his disgust. However, once again his desires were thwarted. In fact, it was possibly one of the most humiliating defeats he had ever experienced.

One moment Vegeta had been storming into the kitchen, ready to order the woman into stopping her nonsense; the next he'd found himself clutching some man-shaped biscuit thing in his hand, complete with gum-drop buttons. He wasn't sure what had happened, only that Mrs Briefs was a crafty woman and was not to be underestimated. Indeed, every time he had attempted to bring up the subject of Christmas, she had conjured more food for him to try, perhaps sensing that his Saiyan appetite was one of his few weaknesses. Vegeta was not to be deterred for long, however, and probably would have managed to at least speak some of his mind if Mrs Briefs had not recalled that she wanted his help with the Christmas tree.

"I'm afraid I got a little carried away with the size this year," Mrs Briefs said with one of her girlish laughs. "It was such a trouble getting it inside; I wasn't sure how I was _ever_ going to get the star on top without having to use a ladder—and you know how unsafe those things can be. But then I realised _you_ could just fly up there and put the star on the tree yourself!"

She beamed at him as if she had just discovered the solution for all the world's problems, quite oblivious to the prince's revolted expression. Vegeta realised in that moment that he was never going to get through to Mrs Briefs unless he blasted her to death with his ki, thus eradicating the problem completely. He had to admit that it was a tempting thought—the woman was like a walking, talking torture device—but he also had a feeling the rest of the Earthlings would not be quite so happy with that outcome. In short, he had no choice but to humour her if he wanted to remain on Earth and fight against the Androids.

Needless to say, Vegeta decided to make a hasty retreat—he was _not_ going to put an ornamental star on any trees. Unfortunately, that only left him with one more person to try and reason with: the blue-haired banshee.

Vegeta did not cherish the thought of having to talk to the youngest member of the Briefs family. She was loud, obnoxious, and always made things difficult for him. But, as he loved to remind everyone, he was the prince of Saiyans. He would not be beaten so easily.

Or so he thought.

Perhaps there was a time when Bulma would have been too frightened to make a stand against Vegeta; however, after living with him during those few months he stayed on Earth after Namek exploded, and then living with him a few more after he returned from his sojourn in space, she was well and truly used to the prince—and his temper. In fact, Bulma had become quite the expert at diffusing the Saiyan's anger; it was a necessary skill when her—now ex—boyfriend and the prince had decided to take an instant dislike to each other. So it was that she remained unmoved when the prince came stomping into the living room and told her exactly what he thought of this idiotic tradition of hers, among a number of other unpleasant things.

"Oh, stop being such a humbug," Bulma retorted, and thrust a box of Christmas lights at him. "Here, put this around the tree, would you? Mum went and bought a monster, and I can't ask Yamcha to help because he's still off sulking somewhere with Puar." A scowl twisted her mouth. "That jerk. He always acts like it's my fault when we break up, but I'm not the one ogling every pretty girl who passes my way. I mean, don't you think I deserve more respect than that?"

A vein throbbed on Vegeta's temple. "Woman, did you even hear a word I said?"

"Yes, I did," she said, rolling her eyes, "but not every word you say is gold, Vegeta. You'll have to forgive me if I don't always care about your pointless grumbling." She placed her hands on her hips and stared at him expectantly. "Now are you going to help me put up the lights or not?"

His eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on the box of Christmas lights. The nerve of that woman! How dare she speak to him like that! Suddenly, the box in his hands caved in on itself with a tinkling of broken glass.

"You lunkhead!" Bulma cried, snatching the box out of his hands. "Look what you've done! You've ruined the fairy lights!"

The vein on Vegeta's temple throbbed faster. "I'll ruin more than that in a minute if you keep trying my patience, woman."

"Oh, really?" Bulma drew herself to her full height, which didn't really do much since she and Vegeta were about as tall as each other. "I'll have you know, Vegeta, that no one—_no one—_" she repeated, digging a finger into his chest with each word "—is allowed to ruin Christmas in this household. I don't care how many homicidal Androids have been destined to attack the Earth; if you even dare to try and go all Grinch on me, I will personally ensure that your stay at this house is a living hell."

Vegeta folded his arms, not at all impressed with her threat. "And how do you plan to do that?"

She leaned forward, meeting his eyes squarely as a sly smile curled her lips. "Two words, Vegeta: my mother."

His right eye twitched.

Bulma allowed her grin to widen. "Just think about it, Vegeta. Think about what a few well-placed comments could do. All I would have to say is how much you _love_ it when she sings near the gravity chamber while you train, and you'll spend the rest of your time preparing for the Androids with off-key Celine Dion renditions and other old favourites to serenade you. And that's just one example."

Vegeta paled slightly and stared at the wall, which was barely visible behind the monstrous pine tree that had been set in front of it. He got a far-away look in his eyes, as if envisioning the many horrors Mrs Briefs could inflict upon him. It was clear he found the images disturbing.

Bulma ran a finger along his jaw, tilting his face back to hers so he was forced to meet her gaze. "So," she taunted, her voice low and caressing in its mockery, "still plan on cancelling Christmas, oh mighty prince?"

A low growl rumbled in his throat and he ripped his face away from her touch. "Fine! You can have your idiotic tradition, but don't think I'm letting this go for you! I just have more important things to do than waste my time dealing with you weakling Earthlings."

"Whatever you say, Vegeta," Bulma said with a knowing smile. "Now can you please help me put up the decorations?"

"I am _not_ helping you decorate that thing!" he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at the Christmas tree.

He was sorely tempted to blast the tree right then and there—watching it burn would be a balm to his wounded pride—but the thought of Pansy Briefs singing 'My Heart Will Go On' had him restraining the impulse. There were some tortures even he could not stomach.

Bulma frowned. "You aren't expecting me to use a ladder to decorate the tree, are you? I might fall off and break my neck!"

"I hope you do," he muttered. "It would certainly make things a lot more peaceful around here."

The blue eyes flashed. _"What did you say?"_

Vegeta folded his arms, looking as haughty as a warrior prince only could. "You know exactly what I said."

Bulma continued to glower at him for a moment, but then she seemed to realise that arguing with him would not further her case in making the Saiyan help. She decided to change tactics.

"Oh, come on, Vegeta," Bulma entreated, confronting him with the full force of her big blue eyes. "You know I can't do it myself, and I doubt it would take you long." She winked at him flirtatiously. "With your speed and strength, I bet you'll have the decorations hanging on the tree in no time."

Vegeta gave her a shrewd look. "Your attempts at flattery will get you nowhere, woman. I said I will let you have your Christmas, but I am not going to participate in any nonsensical traditions, and I am certainly not going to help you put silvers bells and baubles on a tree."

"But—"

"Woman, I am a warrior, not an interior decorator. If I do anything to that tree, it will be to blast it to pieces to make you shut up!"

Bulma stared at him reproachfully. Vegeta remained unmoved.

"Oh, fine," she sighed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Don't help me decorate the tree, but I'll have you know not every Christmas tradition is nonsensical. In fact, I know quite a few that would be right up your alley."

A crease formed on his brow. "Like what?"

"Christmas dinner, for one. You've never had turkey until you've had Christmas turkey, and Mum goes all out with the desserts." She gave another of her flirtatious winks. "I bet even with your appetite, you'll be struggling to fit everything in."

Vegeta rubbed his chin. Perhaps he would attend this Christmas dinner of theirs, but he wasn't letting them rope him into doing anything else. He'd be dead before he hung a single bauble on that monstrosity of a tree.

"So, what do you say?" Bulma asked, propping a hand on her hip and looking up at him through dancing eyes. "Will you at least come to Christmas dinner?"

"Fine," he muttered.

And that was how Vegeta, the prince of all Saiyans, ended up celebrating Christmas with the Briefs family. There was only the four of them, as all the Capsule Corporation workers had gone home to their own families. Yamcha and Puar would have been there, but Bulma was still refusing to speak to Yamcha until he apologised for his behaviour. Since the fighter in question knew exactly the amount of grovelling he would have to do to earn her forgiveness, he had opted to have Christmas at Master Roshi's instead, along with Puar, Oolong and Krillin. If Bulma missed his presence, she didn't show it. In fact, she seemed quite willing to engage Vegeta in conversation, much to the Saiyan's chagrin. He preferred to enjoy his meals in silence.

Silence, however, was the only thing not on the menu. There was more food set out on the table before him than he could possibly eat—and that was saying something—but getting a few minutes to eat in peace was clearly asking too much. It was therefore a relief when the family decided it was time to disperse to the living room and exchange presents.

Mrs Briefs latched onto Vegeta's arm before he could make his escape. "And where do you think you're running off to, Vegeta? It's time to open the presents."

Vegeta's right eye started twitching. "I don't—"

"Oh, don't worry, dear!" she exclaimed, flashing him a blinding smile. "I know you're not used to our customs and haven't got any presents for anyone, but that's okay because we've got _lots_ for you!"

Trapped in the grip of a smiling nightmare, Vegeta resigned himself to being dragged into the living room where he was bombarded with a mountain of carefully wrapped presents. From Doctor Briefs he received some handy new training gadgets, which he would no doubt break in a week. From Bulma he received what looked like a replica of his original Saiyan armour, to replace the battered thing he'd been wearing when he first arrived back after his travels in space. As he examined the material and breastplate, however, he realised she'd made a few modifications to improve the armour's durability and agility. He had to admit, he was impressed.

And then Pansy handed over her gifts.

Vegeta wasn't sure whether she had just robbed a shopping mall or had decided to buy in bulk that year, but either way he ended up with more new clothes and other sundries than he could have ever wanted. It was alarming to say the least, and he wasted no time in escaping from the hubbub of gift exchanging as soon as the moment presented itself so he could find some breathing room away from the smiling woman.

The prince found a quiet space for himself in the kitchen, where he settled down with a nice bottle of whiskey. A man needed a drink after a day of fat jolly men, Pansy Briefs, and enough gaudily wrapped presents to last him a lifetime. Still, the food had been good.

Vegeta sighed and rested his head in his hands. There were times, like now, when he wondered if he was doing the right thing by staying on Earth. He always told himself it was so he could train, fight, and become a Super Saiyan, but the Briefs insisted on including him in their lives. They insisted in making him join in their silly Christmas traditions, and he'd be damned if he knew why he let them do so. He could kill them all without breaking a sweat; he certainly didn't need to listen to them or let them coerce him into participating in their foolish human customs. But he did.

"I'm a Saiyan warrior," he muttered. "I shouldn't be wasting my time with such things."

"Wasting your time with what?"

Vegeta looked up and saw Bulma standing by the door, regarding him through those big blue eyes of hers.

"I thought you might be in here," she observed.

"I was just leaving," he said shortly, and stood up and made to walk past her.

"Wait," she said, placing a hand on his chest.

He repressed a sigh. "What do you want, woman?"

Bulma smiled rather mischievously and pointed above their heads. "Mistletoe."

Vegeta glanced up and saw a small leafy thing with berries hanging down from the doorway. A crease formed on his brow. "It's just a plant."

She shook her head. "It's not just any plant. It has special significance at Christmas time."

"Really," he said flatly.

"Mhm." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "Want to know what it means?"

Vegeta didn't, but he never got a chance to say otherwise, as just then Bulma leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth.

"It means you kiss whoever is standing under it with you," she murmured.

Vegeta stared at her in surprise. He could still feel the velvety imprint of her lips against his, taunting him with all the warmth and softness she could offer. It was a difficult image to shake.

Bulma smiled roguishly up at him. "Goodnight, Vegeta."

She turned and made to leave, but Vegeta suddenly reached out and grasped her wrist, swinging her back around and pushing her up against the wall. She barely got a gasp out before his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her with all the fervour of a man who has long denied himself female companionship. Everything about her was intoxicating to his heightened senses: her lips, her taste, her scent, and that lusciously curvaceous body. Oh, yes, he had noticed Bulma Briefs' feminine assets, but he had never allowed his silent appreciation to turn into anything more. Until now.

Bulma moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, and he pulled her closer so that there was only the thin barrier of their clothes between them. He could feel every inch of her body yield to the hardness of his, and it was all he could do to stop himself from ripping her clothes off then and there and having his wicked way with her. It had been so long since he had last been with a woman, and he was certain the banshee in his arms would be quite the vixen in bed if her temper was anything to go on.

Said banshee pulled back for air, breathing heavily as she met his darkened eyes. "Well, Vegeta," she taunted, "judging from your reaction, I'd say you rather like the Christmas tradition of kissing under the mistletoe."

"Shut up, woman," he growled, and kissed her again.

Bulma inwardly grinned to herself.

_Merry Christmas to you too, Vegeta._


End file.
